by Brian McLaughlin
I have crossed into uncharted waters. After more than 40 years as a music teacher, I have retired. Gone are the familiar days of schedules and routines, of deadlines and concerts to prepare, of dealing with parents and administrators, of trying to get students to go beyond the notes and reach for artistry. Life is different. There is a tremendous joy in being released from the details of so many time-consuming and unimportant tasks. I am able to turn my efforts and attention to the things that matter, at least which matter to me. But when former colleagues ask me what retirement is like, I have to say that I don’t really know…I’m only a year into it.
Like many retirees, I entered this next season of life with dreams of doing all the things I didn’t have the time to do when I was bound by clock and calendar. My wife and I have traveled quite a lot, going somewhere nearly every month, including a trip to Europe that was a retirement gift from my former students and their families! As avid outdoors people, we have hiked well over 100 miles in the last year. I have rediscovered the joy of listening to music for its own sake—which, after so many years of critiquing and evaluating, has been surprisingly difficult. To simply listen to a long work and enjoy the musical journey seems extravagant, but it has led to the discovery of an array of pieces I did not know. I am also more well-rested than I was at any point in my career.
If you’re thinking that this sounds like a good thing, you’re right! It is—but only because we prepared for it. I’m not talking about financial planning, although that is important. I’m talking about preparing yourself for a change in identity. Most people in Western society equate what they do with who they are. We get our sense of identity from the career we have; the better we are at our craft, the better we feel as people. The sudden loss of that career often sends people spinning: “If I’m no longer a (fill in the blank), then who am I? What good am I?” We go from a life where people respected our opinions and sought out our expertise to a life where others may not even know our names. So it is prudent to give thought to who you are apart from your career. I am convinced that it is as important to set your sights past the finish line of retirement as it is for students to look beyond graduation.
Experts say that there are four stages of retirement: Vacation, Loss, Trial and Error, and Reinventing (Moynes, Riley. “The Four Phases of Retirement.” YouTube, uploaded by James Conole, CFP. June 18, 2024.) In my experience, they are not so much a progression as they are like rooms in a house. You sort of wander from room to room, maybe staying in one for a bit longer depending on the day.
1. Vacation: This initial phase is characterized by excitement and freedom. Retirees may indulge in travel, hobbies, and leisure activities that were previously limited by work. For the most part, this is where I live at the moment. It’s exciting to have all this free time, but I am too experienced to think that this can last for long. As Tom Higgins wrote about mountain climbing:
The mountains always made the regular, flat world bearable, and the flat world made the mountains a sanctuary. It was the pull between the two which nourished. School and work without the mountains would have been deadly. The mountains without the nervous struggling down below would have been limbo, not heaven. (Higgins, Tom. "In Thanks." Ascent 1976, Sierra Club Books, San Francisco: page 23.)
Too many open hours each day can have a negative effect. I have a friend who also retired, and within a few months he was miserable. His friends told him to find a job—any job—and when he did, he became a decent person to be with again. Some just require an external framework to be happy.
2. Loss: This phase can involve feelings of uncertainty and loss. Retirees may miss the structure, purpose, and social connections that work provided, and struggle to find new meaning and routines. This phase is where my friend immediately went, and it's what I tried hard to hedge against. I knew that—unless I keeled over on the podium, or, still clutching my horn, fell out of my chair—I was going to have several years where I would likely no longer actively or regularly participate in the music making that has given so much meaning to my life. What will give meaning when those things are no longer available?
I will pause here for a moment because this issue is too important to gloss over, and the response to it makes all four stages much less difficult. It’s also what I meant when I said that we had prepared for retirement. The solution is in relationships. It helps if you imagine relationships to be like bank accounts. You have to make regular deposits if you ever hope to make any withdrawals. You have to care for and nurture your relationships while you are working if you hope to have strong ones when you retire. I have heard many people say that once they retired, their spouse seemed like a stranger, and the rate of divorce among retirees is the highest among all age groups in our society. Our careers can be a convenient distraction from the cultivation of relationships. We are busy enough to use work as an excuse for not prioritizing each other; but when career is stripped away, we suddenly see the actual state of our lives. This is true not only of our spouses or significant others but also of our children and friends.
Musicians are particularly susceptible to this problem, regardless of whether we are performers or educators. Our craft is highly demanding of our time and concentration, but it is our choice whether we make it the most important thing in our lives or not. Age eventually comes for us all. I’ve gigged with some players who have spent their entire lives propping up their professional prestige rather than paying into any relationships, and as they age and the gigs become fewer, all that remains is a bunch of cellphone photos of themselves with celebrities who wouldn’t know them if they saw them on the street. They are some of the loneliest people I have ever met. Not investing in our relationships comes at a high cost.
3. Trial and Error: In this phase, retirees experiment with different activities and lifestyles to find what brings them fulfillment and purpose in retirement.
4. Reinventing: This final phase involves a renewed sense of purpose and satisfaction. Retirees have adapted to their new lifestyle and found meaningful ways to engage in activities and relationships.
I’ll leave these last two issues for now. I may experience them as the months pass, but I am also pursuing several different activities. There needs to be an outlet for all that musical energy that drove my heart for so long, so I have done a few clinics with local high school bands and enjoyed them. Perhaps I will be able to do some adjudicating as well. We are getting involved in a local church and meeting new people in the community. I’m also heavily involved with our local Mountain Club, going on climbing trips and teaching some of the younger members what I know from decades of climbing. Serving others seems like a good way to move forward.
These are uncharted waters indeed. What will the next several years look like? I’ll let you know when I get there!
